Elliot walked through the alleys of Bakers. He had just sold the tools his father and he had forged leaving Elliot with fifty Copper Rings. Elliot had short brown hair, buzzed on the sides, scars along his arms from smithing, and wore a chain necklace. The necklace had a metal ball on the end of it, filled with a fluid, and a floating eyeball with a light brown iris with golden flecks. The eye was the same color as his eyes.

It was late, Elliot needed to stay at a tavern for the night, his home village was still a full day's walk away. The street was dimly lit with hanging lanterns every fifty feet. Small spores drifted through the air, a symptom of the plague fields hundreds of miles to the east.

This strange housing district between the markets and the lower-end tavern was deserted. Everyone was in their houses as night began to fall. Elliot hurried on his way to the tavern.

A sound comes from down an alleyway on his left, a sound that makes the hairs of his neck stand on end, the rasp of a blade sliding from its scabbard. Elliot quickly draws the hammer from his belt. It felt right gripped in his hand, though he had only ever used it for smithing and fending off the occasional wild beast. His other arm isn’t as quick, it moves over his shoulder towards his shield, and he slips his hand into the leather bracing.

A man wearing a black gas mask rushes out of the darkness and slips a dagger under Elliot’s raised arm, right towards his armpit. (11 to hit vs AC 15) The dagger glances off the chain mail Elliot has on underneath his coat. The criminal almost drops his dagger.

Elliot takes a step around the criminal as he brings his shield to bear and slams the hammer down. (14 to hit vs AC 12) The hammer strikes the back of the man’s head with a sharp crack. (8 damage/power attack).

The criminal stumbles forward into a light pole, whirls around, and throws the dagger. (16 to hit vs AC 15+2 from Shield) Elliot raises his shield and the dagger embeds itself into the wood. The young smith then closes the distance between him and the enemy before swinging his hammer. (15 to hit vs AC 12) The hammer crashes across the man’s jaw, (6 damage) sending him across the street, and into an unconscious heap.

“Bravo!” A man calls out and claps.

Elliot turns spotting a man in a white tabard with a red cloak. He wears a gold necklace with the merchant's symbol of the crown on it. He has pale skin, medium-length red hair, and a red beard and mustache.

“Are you all right?” The man asks as he comes closer.

“I’m alive. Not sure about the other guy though.” Elliot slips his hammer back into his belt loop.

“That’s one less thief we need to trouble with.” He says as he holds up a finger and waggles it around. “Although it has me thinking about something. This is my house here. Let's talk more inside.”

The man goes to the house behind him and opens the door. Elliot decides to drag the thug into the house with him. Of course, after tying his hands together. Once inside the merchant stands by the door for a while checking the street.

“I think that we are safe. I have a proposition for you.” The merchant says with some space between each word. “I can give you the means to raise a militia and pay you handsomely for it.”

“Why would I do that?” Elliot raises an eyebrow at the merchant.

“The bandits are getting bolder, coming into town, kidnapping and stealing. The guards say they are stretched too thin to help. They say that are forces are all out fighting wars. I think someone is helping the bandits get in at night, telling them who to steal from, what targets are the easiest.”

“This sounds a little far-fetched,” Elliot says as he crosses his arms. “I don’t even know you.”

“Alex Praven. You know my name now. Look, last week they took my brother.” Alex seems to calm himself, swallowing his emotions. “If I don’t protect my kin people will think poorly of me. No doubt they will soon send word of a ransom. I will not pay it.”

“So you saw me beat one guy down, and now you want me to beat down a whole bandit clan?” Elliot snorts at the ridiculousness of the request.

“If you can get my brother back safely, I can offer you a few silver coins. What do you say?” Alex sounds desperate.

“Silver. As in proper minted Denars?” Elliot feels his head spin. He has never even seen a Denar. It was a coin only ever used by grand merchants and nobles.

“I have them. The bank mints ten just for me so I have a small pool to trade with. I can give you half of that if you save my brother. But I’ll pay Bronze coins up front.” Alex explains.

Elliot's hand clasps his necklace. He thinks of his home, his upbringing, and feels a certain tug in his heart. He want's more than the life his father intended for him. He wants the money, he wants the glory, the heroism, the adventure. Something in him burns with desire for these things.

“Alright. I’m interested.” Elliot says. “Coins up front and you get to deal with the thug.”

“Deal. You can use these coins to raise a militia. Come back with at least five trained men or however many levied peasants you can find.” Alex drags a small chest out from under a bed and hands it to Elliot.

He opens the chest to see how many coins are in it. They are neatly lined up with little to no wiggle room. Dozens of bronze coins.

“There should be a hundred in there. Please act quickly.” Alex pleads.

“It will be done.” Elliot throws the chest in his pack, nods to the merchant, and leaves.

Elliot heads to the tavern. There is a man and a whore talking outside the tavern. Elliot slips past them and into the building. There is a bard playing a song with a fast tune. Elliot quickly counts twelve people in the bar; the bartender, two barmaids, the bard, two whores, four textile workers, a scribe, and a farmer.

The farmer had a coin purse on his belt. He most likely sold some product at the market today just like Elliot did. The scribe has a small metal port on the back of his shaved head. Elliot had heard some people put uplinks in their head to receive information from the system directly to their brain. Elliot knew there was a system affecting the world he inhabited, but did not have the means to understand it.

The four textile workers were simple men. The two whores were from the cult of the apokolips. The apokoliptians believe all law and order died hundreds of years ago. That the new reigning ideology is one of pleasure and excess. Elliot could easily tell their affiliation by the colored feathers in their hair and the fact that their clothes covered maybe five percent or so of their body. The rest was covered in tattoos.

Speaking to the bartender, Elliot purchases a bunk to sleep on in the common room for five copper rings and heads there immediately. Walking out of the bar and into the common room he spots four more people in there. Two are sleeping, one is praying, and the last one is smoking.

The one praying was an Anibaptist. The one smoking was a Judge. Neither of them was men Elliot wanted to cross, as they would kill in a heartbeat, but they both were bound by codes. The Judge respected the ancient laws of man while the Anibaptist respected the new laws of survival. Both would do anything to find and kill every monster in the wasteland and every monster among men.

Elliot throws his pack on a bunk far from the others. He puts his shield on top of it. He then removes his armored shirt, the chainmail, and tucks it into his pack. Elliot lays down on the bunk, placing a hand on his pack so no one steals it, as he drifts off to sleep.